


The Truth, The Whole Truth, and Nothing but the Truth

by phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Interview, M/M, a bit of snark, funny descriptions of Louis, teeth-aching fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: Sometimes people write funny things about Louis in the internet, and Harry likes to save them.Or where Louis and Harry go wildly off-script in an interview.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nottooldforthisship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottooldforthisship/gifts).



> So this is a short thing, and I'm pretty sure it's [taggiecb's](http://taggiecb.tumblr.com/) fault for the prompt, which went exceptionally fluffy. It's sort of a canon thing with things I just simply made up!
> 
> This is for [nottoooldforthisship's](http://nottooldforthisship.tumblr.com/) birthday because she's utterly lovely and hopefully will enjoy the fluff sans smut.
> 
> As always, PLEASE RESPECT THE 4TH WALL. 
> 
> I'm [phdmama here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/works) and you can find me [here on Tumblr.](http://phd-mama.tumblr.com/) Come say hi!"

Louis shifts on the sofa, and hopes he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. He hasn’t been allowed to be alone in an interview with Harry since France in 2012, and they all know how that turned out. This is one of those Made in the AM promo deals, where they sit on the couch and interviewers cycle in and out. He’s hopeful that they’ve finally _finally_ managed to get their message across, they’re adults now, not fluffy young teenagers. They’re musicians, artists at work on their craft, not just laddy-lads to whom something extraordinary happened. They’re talented, they have things to say. So far, their PR team seems to have gotten the message across. They’ve talked about musical influences, the creative process, and all sorts of things that aren’t girls.

Until now.

They’re filming a segment for Good Morning America, and if Louis didn’t know to the pence how important this market is for them, he’d burn it to the ground. But, he’s a professional, he knows what he’s doing, and he’s been media trained within an inch of his fucking life.

“So,” Michael Strahan leans forward, “As one red-blooded heterosexual male to another, Louis, let’s talk girls. What do you like?”

Louis hears Harry give a soft groan, and without even looking, he can see the eyeroll. He sighs internally. Harry knows their fans, know they see *everything* and, what’s worse (or better), gif EVERYTHING. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry bring his hands together, one finger suggestively circling another. Jesus Christ, this is going to require another “special meeting,” isn’t it.

Michael clears his throat quietly and Louis jumps, and returns to the task at hand. “Be approachable, be relatable, but not TOO relatable,” his PR team had cautioned right before they’d take the seats, camera-ready.

“Sorry,” he grins self-deprecatingly at the camera. “What do I like in a girl?”

He thinks for a moment of his mother, his sisters, Gemma. Warriors, the lot of them, fierce, unapologetic women, who take absolutely no shit from anyone, and demand respect, equality and, in more than one case, total adoration which he freely and authentically offers because it’s totally deserved.

“Oh, you know.” He coughs, “Just...someone who’s nice.”

“Funny,” Harry chimes in, “You want someone you can laugh with.”

Michael smiles a patently false smile and says, “Aww, c’mon boys. You’re young! We know what young men want, don’t we?” He actually winks, the motherfucker, and Louis seethes at the implication.

Harry coughs again and says, “We don’t want to objectify women, that’s not what we’re about.”

Louis can see that Michael is getting frustrated, and wonders a bit at what his mandate this morning might actually be. He bares his teeth in approximation of a grin, and chants silently, _play nice, play nice, play nice._

He shifts, feeling the firm press of Harry’s leg against his. They’re both sitting in a wide-legged stance, so they can be touching while still making it look casual, and Louis suddenly thinks, _FUCK THIS_. He’s so tired of having to lie, having to speak in code, through shirts, through stuffed animals. Maybe, he thinks, maybe he’ll give their fans a little something to talk about.

He shifts, moving his leg away from Harry’s while simultaneously stretching his arm out on the back of the couch, brushing his knuckles against Harry’s curls and then resting his arm so his fingers graze Harry’s shoulder. Harry, as Louis knew he would, has automatically shifted, his knee chasing Louis’s thigh, an involuntary smile crossing his face at the touch of Louis’s hand. He seems suddenly to remember that they’re in an interview and freezes, glancing at their handlers off-screen ( _way to be obvious, Haz_ , Louis snorts internally) and then gives Louis a slightly confused look.

Louis watches Michael watching the interplay between them, eyes narrowed. He knows, Louis knows he knows, he’d walked into the green room just a half hour ago to find Harry pinning Louis to the sofa in a decidedly less than platonic way and had just rolled his eyes at them before saying, “30 minutes, gentlemen, don’t make a mess on the couch” and walking out. Louis isn’t sure what’s brought back the return of the questions about girls, but he knows he doesn’t like it.

Michael takes a deep breath and comes at it from a different angle. “Well, what’s it like, having so many fans who…” his voice trails off suggestively and then he continues, “Who appreciate all of your assets?”

Harry shrugs and says, “the internet does bring out all sorts, doesn’t it?” He couples this slightly snarky reply with a wide-eyed, dimpled smile and flicks his hair over his shoulder in a move that Louis knows he’s been practicing for weeks.

A look Louis can’t quite identify crosses Michael's face, and then his tone shifts, drops down into something slightly more genuine. “How much do you all pay attention?”

“Oh,” Louis can hear the bite in his own tone and struggles to drop it down back into PR-approved levels, “We see it all, though we don’t particularly pay attention to it. There’s just not a lot of…” he pauses, knowing he’s about to unleash a shitstorm of backlash, “there’s not a lot of originality in it, I mean, how many times can you read ‘sit on my face’ without it becoming...boring?”

Michael barks out a shout of genuine laughter and rolls his eyes. “Louis, c’mon, you can’t say that on morning television, we’re going to have to edit that out.”

Louis nods, schooling his face into an appropriately abashed expression, but entirely unrepentant. He’s developed a knack for seeing what’s going on in the shadows, and he knows that at least 3 different assistants have been filming this clandestinely. He also knows that by the time they walk off this stage, that will be all over the internet. All of it, from several different angles.

Harry clears his throat, and Louis can feel the weight of his concern as Harry glances at him. Michael consults with the camera crew for a moment and Harry whispers, “You okay, baby?” while tapping out the pattern on his leg that they’d worked out years ago, tap (pause) tap tap tap tap (pause) tap tap tap.

Louis nods, and tips his head to rest it on the back of the couch. “Yeah, just tired.”

Harry snickers, “well you would start that 78,000 word fic at midnight, wouldn’t you?”

Louis stares at him, affronted, “Harry. It was a new Drarry advent fic. Of course I had to read it!”

He opens his mouth to tell Harry all about saras_girl’s genius again, but Harry nudges him and he sees Michael sitting back down in his seat.

“Okay,” he says, “where were we?”

Harry says firmly, “we were talking about how the...fans talk about us online, and I have to say, there’s some really funny things they say. Especially about Lou,” he coughs awkwardly, “Um, Louis.”

Michael looks a bit concerned, as Harry’s clearly going off-script here. “Oh. Um. Really?”

Harry sits bolt upright and Louis sighs, knowing exactly where this is going. This is definitely going to get them banned from any more interviews just the two of them, but once Harry gets going on this topic, he’s unstoppable.

Harry wiggles his phone out of his back pocket and says, “I’ve saved some of the best ones here.”

Michael looks alarmed, “Err, got to keep it PG, lads.”

Harry fixes Michael with a fierce stare and says sternly, “These are gold, Michael.” He taps at his phone for a moment, and Louis sighs and shakes his head, knowing Harry has a folder entitled “Louis is the softest kitten.”

Harry clears his throat and begins to read.

  * “Louis Tomlinson is the literal sun. Go home, sky star, we don’t need you anymore.”
  * “Louis Tomlinson is the sweetest buttermint and should be protected at all costs.”
  * “Louis is the fluffiest noodle, and needs to comb his hair.”
  * “Is Louis safe? Is he warm enough? Does he need a blanket? Because I’m available and can bring him one.”
  * “Do you think Louis knows that he’s like, the cutest hedgehog in the bush? HE’S SO CUTE I WANT TO PET HIM AND FEED HIM WATERMELON.”
  * “Louis is my smol son. I am so proud of him. I hope he remembered to take his vitamins.”



Louis’s face is bright red and he finally sputters, “Harry! Enough!” Their eyes meet and the look on Harry’s face takes Louis’s breath away, and he knows, without a doubt, that they’re going to have to take a break and redo this entire fucking interview, because it’s all right there, isn’t it, all the love and joy that Harry feels for Louis, written on his face and in his beautiful eyes and warm smile, dimples popping as he grins with such smug satisfaction in having made Louis blush and laugh. And, Louis is quite sure, he’s mirroring the exact same look back to Harry, his absolute love for this goofy, endearing soul, and just how lucky and blessed he feels that somehow, out of all the people in the world Harry could have chosen, it’s Louis who gets to be the recipient of that look. It’s everything. It’s love, it’s hope, it’s history, it’s the past and future so deeply tied together that the only way Louis can conceptualize either is by looking at Harry.

He can see Michael looking first at Harry and then at him, hear him sighing as he stands up again, to consult with the crew to see if any of this can be salvaged. Michael pauses in front of them, and says quietly, “Take 15, guys, and we’ll try again. And…” here he pauses and coughs, looking a bit uncomfortable, “For what it’s worth, you guys have something pretty amazing.”

Louis just stares at him as Harry murmurs “Thanks, Michael,” and pulls Louis to his feet. “C’mon, babe, let’s go see if there are any more of those pastries you were eyeing earlier.”

As they wander back to the green room, Louis’s hand rests in the small of Harry’s back. He knows how this looks from behind, the contrast between his smaller frame and slender hand and Harry’s strong back, and how everyone thinks he’s the leader in this relationship, but he knows the truth. Sometimes he guides, sometimes he’s led, but no matter which position he takes, it’s with Harry.

Always with Harry.


End file.
